Just This
by Satori
Summary: Oh look! Another fanfic that will never be finished! No but really, I hope you like it.


Satori wiped sweat quickly from her eyes and tried to refocus on the opponent in front of her. Why couldn't she do this? She always beat the other members of the dojo easily, but today seemed different. She stifled a cry as Hana's wooden katana rapped her sharply on the shoulder, and quickly retaliated, driving her friend to her knees.  
  
~There, that's better!~ She smiled with satisfaction and helped her friend up, "Good job Hana-chan."  
  
"But I'm still not as good as you, Tori-chan." Hana sighed.  
  
"Pfft! I've been working on that one for years, you just started here!" Satori reasoned with the disheartened girl, "Tell you what, how about you go home and get some rest, do your homework, and then come back here in the evening and I'll help you practice."  
  
"But the dojo closes at five!" Hana exclaimed.  
  
"I know," Satori grinned, "See you there!" With that, she dashed off to shower, change, and go home herself.  
  
* * *  
  
At around six, Satori knelt in side room of the dojo, in her shura ishou, a fighting costume that resembled a shrine maiden's. Only the best fighters of Muteki Dojo were permitted to wear them, and she took a special pride in wearing hers. Satori bowed to the shrine in front of her, dedicated to Bishamon, ((A/N: Yes, I swear, that's his actual name! ^o^)) god of war, touching her forehead to the ground in front of her. Her friends at the dojo often made fun of her ritual, but she abided by it and had never lost a fight yet afterwards.  
  
After a moment, Satori stood and walked into the main room, selecting a real katana from the rack in the corner, deciding to practice while waiting for Hana. Closing her eyes, she began her favorite, most complex dance of whirling katana and body, Senpuu no Sakura. The flowing movements relaxed Satori's mind and allowed her to lose herself in the dance.  
  
In the rafters of the dojo, a shadowed figure watched the beautiful whirling girl do her intricate steps, black hair flying out behind her like a banner. She would make an interesting youkai, he decided. Suddenly, the girl slipped, the katana flying into the air. She fell with a soft thud and the katana spun then dropped, blade pointed straight at her. She cried out and tried to move, but her hair had caught between the practice mats on the floor and the katana fell ever closer.  
  
Finally, the watcher from the roof decided to get involved, after all, he couldn't let such an interesting ningen die. Flipping nimbly off the rafter, he landed silently by the girl's head, grabbing the hilt of the katana just before it impaled her. The pale girl stared up at him in shock and amazement as he moved back, giving her her space, taking the katana with him.  
  
Slowly, the slender girl sat up, huge green eyes even larger, and turned to stare at him, "H-how did you do that?"  
  
Chikushou. He'd forgotten that ningens didn't move that fast. Oh well, "Don't be rude little girl, I just saved your life."  
  
"I am not being rude!" She exclaimed, jumping up, surprisingly recovered from her near-death experience.  
  
"Ningenteki korera tsukihi," he muttered.  
  
"What are you doing in this dojo?" The girl demanded, glaring at him.  
  
"I told you not to be rude," he reminded her, throwing seeds at her feet, which instantly grew into long vines, winding around her legs and growing upward to bind her arms behind her back before she could blink.  
  
"Wh-what do you want?" She was frightened now, stunned by his powers. Let her be. He took a step forward, into the stronger light, and she gaped at his long silver hair and golden fox eyes.  
  
"You are an odd ningen, aren't you?" he inspected her face, concealing his curiosity, "You fight well."  
  
She snorted and rejoined, "At least I use a katana and not magic tricks!"  
  
"But magic tricks are fake, are they not?"  
  
"Of course." She answered  
  
"Then this would be too, ne? Try to get out." He stepped back, folding his arms and watching her struggle with the vines.  
  
"Damn it what are you?" She growled at him after a few minutes of struggling in vain.  
  
He smiled slowly, a cold smile, "Youko Kurama, little girl, at your service." He bowed sardonically.  
  
"Some service." She glowered at him.  
  
"Oh, the lady wounds me." He pressed is hand to his chest, as if struck.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"And what may I call you, lady?" he inclined his head in her direction.  
  
"Satori." She replied shortly, "Now will you let me go?"  
  
"Oh no.I think not. You've been quite rude, you know." He took another step toward her, so they were now uncomfortably close.  
  
"What do you want from me?" Despite her fear, Satori congratulated herself on keeping her voice from shaking. She refused to look him straight in the face; afraid her face would give away her fear.  
  
Kurama looked at Satori, smelling her fear, and for an instant, he felt a pang that he couldn't name, willing the girl to look up. Finally, she did and he couldn't help but stare at how fragile she looked. As if anything he did to her would break her. Even her green eyes seemed like they would shatter; her look was so pleading that any method of hilarious torture he could devise flew right out of his head and all he could think of was her delicate beauty.  
  
Very softly, he answered her, "Just this," he bent his head ever so slightly, capturing her lips gently with his. Kurama felt Satori stiffen and start to pull away, but stopped her with a hand at her back, slowly withdrawing the vines that held her immobile. Kurama, with a distinct disappointed feeling, quite expected her to run away, but, to their mutual surprise, she didn't. 


End file.
